


be more careful

by Gone_by_dawn



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Domestic Disputes, Episode Tag, Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, episode tag: s04e23 Roadkill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 04:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17635754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gone_by_dawn/pseuds/Gone_by_dawn
Summary: “Spencer,” he breathed out, relieved. He took a quick step towards his boyfriend but stopped, dead in his tracks, when he saw the other’s tight smile and folded arms. He didn't look as happy to see him as Hotch had hoped. He didn't look happy at all, actually.“I heard you crashed the car,” he said. His was voice was even.Hotch’s stomach dropped. He immediately stilled, completely frozen.I fucked up, he thought.I fucked up, I fucked up, I-~~~This is set towards the end of season 4, episode 23 (Roadkill). They didn’t address how Spencer reacted to finding out that Hotch crashed the car, and I think they should’ve.





	be more careful

Hotch and Detective Quinn had been the nearest to the road where Burke’s wife said he would be riding. They’d been hoping to catch the unsub before he’d gotten close enough to his target. Maybe catch him a block away and manage to pull him over, though that was mainly just wishful thinking. Of course, both men knew that there wasn’t much they could do, since the unsub was in a car; there weren’t very many ways to stop a large truck that was hellbent on running a man over.

All of this was to say Hotch hadn’t rushed in with a _plan_ , per se. But the second he saw their unsub tailing the next victim, he had an idea. 

He knew what he was going to do only a few seconds beforehand. That gave him just enough time to shout _“Hold on!”_ to the detective in shotgun, and " _I hope this works"_ silently to himself. 

The moment his lips were done moving, his hands sprang into action, jerking the steering wheel roughly towards himself and causing the SUV to make a sharp turn. He felt the two cars collide painfully and winced. After that, he didn’t— _couldn’t_ do anything more than gasp for the breath that had been violently knocked out of him. His arms might’ve come up, belatedly, to protect his face as the window shield shattered in front of him, but if they did, it wasn’t because of any conscious decision to. His mind was still occupied registering the force of the impact—anything his body did in that time was completely unauthorized. Hotch didn't care much for unauthorized behavior. 

"Are you hurt?" Quinn shouted at him. He wasn't sure if he moved his head or made any acknowledging sound at all. In his mind he was yelling at the other man to hurry the hell up and catch Coakley. "Are you OK?"

Aaron groaned, biting out that he was fine, and the detective took him at his word. He fumbled his way out of the SUV, gun aimed at the other driver. Hotch tried to focus on what he was saying to the unsub, rather than the pounding in his head. Remind him why he'd crashed on his side?

"You can't blame other people for what you've done, Coakley," Quinn was saying. Hotch damn near had an aneurysm. 

"Detective," he called out, warning. "Detective!"

"You know the truth.  No one else needs to die." 

This exactly how  _not_ to talk to a mentally unstable unsub. "It's not gonna help!" He yelled. 

"There was no other car, was there?"

Hotch growled from his seat, clawing at the belt so that he could pull himself from the damage and out to where Quinn was comfronting the killer. He saw the driver shake his head, muttering to himself. Clearly, he was struggling to grasp what the cop was telling him, trying, vainly, to pair it with his fragmented memory. It wasn't a good sign. Coakley slammed his fist against the steering wheel and tore off, leaving the two in his dust. Seconds behind were Morgan and Rossi, slowing to check up on him after seeing the FBI vehicle wrecked. It was a nice sentiment, Hotch thought, but the unsub was getting away.

"Go!" he shouted to his agents, waving them off. He saw Morgan hesitate, bless him, the bastard. "GO!"

He waited until they were out of out of sight to allow himself to relax, shoulders finally able to slump under the exhaust. He felt his body sag against the side of the car and, for a few precious seconds, let himself give into he pain he was feeling, both the physical and emotional toll of the job. But then he picked himself back up, squared his shoulders and lifted his chin.

Not five minutes later he got the call announcing that Coakley was dead.

The ride back to the police department was filled with heavy silence and a seriously agonizing headache. Hotch tried to find comfort in the fact that he really was relatively fine; he'd managed to get off with a minor cut on his forehead and a bruised-but-not-dislocated shoulder. He was even fairly certain that he didn't have a concussion so, yeah, he was good. Or he would be, anyway. As soon as he got home and could enjoy a hot shower and... Spencer. His heart panged with _want_ at the thought. That was it--all he wanted at the moment, at _any_ moment, was to be at home with Spencer, laying at his side and putting any other trivial nuisance far, far behind them. He closed his eyes and let out a small sigh as Detective Quinn drove on. Hotch really needed a vacation.

All to soon, or not soon enough, he couldn't tell, the two were back at the station. Rossi and Morgan were a few minutes behind them, while local CSI was busy dealing with Coakley's suicide. Walking back to the bullpen, he was greeted to Emily and JJ, who were apparently waiting for the rest of the team. Reid was notably absent. 

Normally, it would've been Hotch's first order of business to track down his boyfriend. They always talked after a case, whether it was as soon as someone was taken into custody, on the jet, or even when they finally made it home. He preferred waiting until the two were safely back at his apartment to unload everything, but he also knew that Spencer was in favor of a small, reassuring chat as soon as the case was officially over. And, honestly, of all the things disagree on, this was so _tiny_ , why even fight it? He never minded spending extra time with Spencer, and was hardly going to complain about taking the time to look after his wellbeing. He did have a heart, no matter what Morgan jokingly claimed.

So yes, _normally_ , he'd be out searching for his boyfriend right now, but Quinn had also wanted to speak to him in his office, and the team still had to give a statement to the rest of the officers so that they could close the case on their ends. Plus, he did need to get stitches for his forehead, and it would probably be best to do that before confronting Reid. The younger man tended to dote on his partners, though he would never admit it. He called it  _"Caring, Aaron_ ", and  _"Maybe you should try showing it, sometime._ "

The minute he got his bandages put in, Aaron finally set out to go find the only team member who he hadn't spoken to yet. Of course, he was going to see him in a few minutes anyway, when the team gathered up and got ready to fly back to Quantico, but he'd rather see the other man in private. Their teammates tended to get uncomfortable when the two had their  _Thank-God-you-didn't-get-shot-this-time-you-idiot_ makeout session in front of them.

Hotch saw a couple of agents lounging around the precinct, and made his way towards them to ask about their missing resident genius. "Hey, have you seen Reid?" He asked, gently placing on arm on J.J.'s shoulder to get her attention. She turned her head to face him, half-grinning. In front of her, sitting on a police officer's desk, was Prentiss, wearing a matching expression.

"Spence? Yeah, he's putting together his things so that we can head home," the blonde said. Her tone made him pause.

Hotch went to move away from the two women, but Emily spoke up. "Hey Hotch," she said. "You haven't talked to him yet, since you've gotten back, have you?"

He frowned. "No." Then, curiously: "Why?"

The two had on identical smirks, which honestly scared him a little. Those two often gave off the impression that they knew something he didn't when they gossiped together, and most of the time, it's because they did. He didn't want to think about it right now--what he wanted was Reid, and he'd held out long enough.

True to their word, Hotch found Reid near Quinn's office, packing things back into his go-bag. His head was down, loose strands falling from behind his ears into his face as his hands worked.  _Finally,_ a moment alone with the agent. Reid, who had presumably heard Hotch's arrival, looked up in time to catch his eyes. Immediately, he felt some of his tension slip from his shoulders, and he watched Reid, fondly. Who was he kidding, thinking that it was Spencer who needed comforting after a case? Hotch was so _gone_ for this boy. For a minute, the two of them just stood there, staring at each other. Hotch broke first, which seemed to snap the other out of his trance, too.

“Spencer,” he breathed out, relieved. He took a quick step towards his boyfriend but stopped, dead in his tracks, when he saw the other’s tight smile and folded arms. He didn't look as happy to see him as Hotch had hoped. He didn't look happy at all, actually.

“I heard you crashed the car,” he said. His was voice was even.

Hotch’s stomach dropped. He immediately stilled, completely frozen. _I fucked up_ , he thought. _I fucked up, I fucked up, I-_

"That's not the whole story," he said, as soon as his heart started beating again. It was a lame excuse, if you could even call it that. 

"Does the whole story... involve you  _not_ crashing the car?" Spencer asked, raising an eyebrow. Hotch sighed.

"No. It does not."

Spencer hugged his arms tighter around himself, shaking his head as he began to talk, faster than Aaron could comfortably keep up with. "Did you know, nearly 1.3 million people die in road crashes each year? On average 3,287 deaths a day."

"No, Spencer, I did not know that," he said. Reid wasn't done. In fact, he picked up the pace, his tone harsher, more accusing with each word.

"An additional 20-50 million are injured or disabled. And that's when they  _don't_ have an unsub who  _kills people, with his car,_ running them down. Do you even-"

Hotch crossed the room quickly, by his boyfriend's side in an instant. He reached out and grabbed his arms with his hands, stopping Reid from moving around wildly to calm the man.

"Spencer," he said softly, looking at him intently. " _Spencer_." Reid sagged in his arms, head falling forward, towards Hotch. He was frowning, but he didn't look mad.

"You didn't have to crash the car," he whispered. Something in Aaron's gut twisted, and he pulled Spencer close to his chest, holding him there, feeling Spencer's own arms hesitantly snake around his waist. He put a hand in the man's hair, running his fingers through the long locks. Reid was taller than Aaron, not by a lot, but by enough so that he had to bend for his head to rest on the other's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, against the other's hair. He repeated it a few more times, until Spencer understood. "I'll be more careful."

What he  _wanted_ to say was this was their job, and it was dangerous. But Reid already knew that. It was his job too, after all, and even if he wasn't out in the field as much as Morgan or Prentiss, he was still plenty in danger each time he showed up for work. Reid knew all the risks, probably more so than anyone on the team. Hotch knew that if he'd brought that argument up right now, Spencer would glare at him, and snap out that he was perfectly aware, and they'd be back at square one. The reality was that Spencer  _knew_ the job was dangerous, knew that sometimes Aaron was going to crash a car, or got shot at, or worse. But that wasn't really why he was upset. It didn't take a profiler to figure that out. 

They pulled apart after a few moments. Spencer took a couple of steps backward, and looked around the room. There were windows, but the blinds were mostly closed. The ones that were open didn't have anyone in view, anyway. Hotch was confused for a second on why his boyfriend would be analyzing all of this. Reid had always been open about his sexuality, had anyone asked. He didn't do anything to hide being bi, nor that he was currently dating Aaron. He didn't realize at first, then, why Spencer would be surveying for witnesses, until he was being pulled forward by the lapels of his suit and into a harsh kiss.

Spencer's mouth swallowed his surprised gasp, hungrily moving against Hotch's lips as the other's brain fought to keep up. In no time, he relaxed into the kiss, melting into Spencer and resting a hand behind his back. The kiss slowed down, turning gentle and sweet, at which point Aaron allowed himself to run his fingers through the other's curls. Spencer smiled against his mouth and pulled back, eyes bright and lips swollen. He looked beautiful, always looked beautiful, and mischievous.

Spencer's hands slid down his jacket, so that they were gripping the front of his suit just above his stomach. "Yeah," he said. "You will be." Then he smiled warmly, grabbed his go-bad, and walked out of the office, leaving Aaron completely alone, wondering what the hell had just happened.

He stood like that for a few more minutes, just stewing in his thoughts. He brought his thumb up to his lips, as if to reassure that that had actually just happened. Eventually, he turned and left.

His agents were still waiting in the bullpen, this time with the addition of Spencer, Morgan, and Rossi. All heads turned to him as he approached. Clearing his throat, he addressed the team.

"Wheels up in 30. I want to be back home as soon as possible," he said, and watched as a few of them nodded and wandered off. He caught Spencer's eye before he went, who gave him a small smile before ducking out. Left standing by him were the two trouble-makers themselves, J.J. and Prentiss.

"You know," he said, glaring at the blonde first, and then the other. "You could have warned me that he was angry."

Prentiss beamed up at him, grinning devilishly. "And ruin the fun? Not a chance."

He sighed. "Which one of you tipped him off?"

"About the crash?" JJ asked. She jerked her head, gesturing at something behind his shoulder. When he turned, he saw Rossi, leaning in the doorway, go-bag slung over his shoulder. The man threw a wink at Hotch, then disappeared out the room. "He did."

Hotch grumbled under his breath, cursing his traitorous teammates, much to the delight and enjoyment of the two women. He guessed he should count himself lucky that Derek and Penelope hadn't been in on the plot. He shuddered to think the kind of damage that _those_ two could've inflicted. 

**Author's Note:**

> I love that you guys leave kudos, I really do. But please, please leave a comment! it makes an author’s day i promise


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